


A Late Night Game

by Iithril



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Daredevil & Defenders Exchange 2020, M/M, Tarot, late night walk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iithril/pseuds/Iithril
Summary: It's about learning to let go, and it's about cards. There's also an old lady, mists, a Devil and a man with demons.In which Matt and Frank patrol in Hell's Kitchen and make a strange encounter.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22
Collections: Daredevil Bingo, Daredevil and Defenders Exchange 2020





	A Late Night Game

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaah I'm so excited for this! 
> 
> Written for [Daredevil & Defenders Exchange 2020](https://daredevilexchange.tumblr.com/), organised by the wonderful, talented and generally amazing [titC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titc). 
> 
> It's a gift for [RedfieldQuill](redfieldquill.tumblr.com), and I worked with the visual prompt that was given to me, plus **Late night walk in Hell's Kitchen** , **Medieval** and **[Learn To Let Go, by Kesha](https://youtu.be/Xx1RSj4biO4)**.
> 
> It also fills my Wild Card for **[Daredevil Bingo](https://daredevilbingo.dreamwidth.org/)** , with the chosen prompt **To Hell and Back**
> 
> A huge thank you and my endless gratitude to my beta for this work, Franque M.A., and thank you [EachPeachPearPlum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eachpeachpearplum) and [Arboreal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arboreal) for being amazing human beings!

The city was almost silent.

Almost, because for Matt, it never really was. But with the mists covering it, hugging it like a warm scarf in winter, stifling the sounds, the lights, even the smells, hiding everything and everyone under a diaphanous veil, it was the closest to silence it would ever be for him. Frank had once told him he experienced the city like a regular person would when the mists were gone.

They were on patrol, as usual. On days without mists, they wouldn’t dare walk on the roofs, jumping around behind soldiers startled by the sound, but who wouldn’t dare to probe under the veil. On days without, they would hide in corners, whisper softly, watch their every step.

Not tonight. It was a night of freedom, the streets were theirs. Rare were those who dared to go out in the mists. Soldiers avoided patrols on the ramparts, carried torches high in the air, unaware that by doing so, they were creating a bubble of light around themselves shielding them from shadows and silhouettes, blinding them from the truth. Most honest people were locking their doors and windows and wilfully ignored the cries and sounds from outside. Ordinary thieves avoided venturing in the fog like the plague, knowing that only the most talented were out on those nights.

The mists were theirs, and Matt relished in the feeling of freedom. He wasn’t strained, didn’t need to put wax in his ears to cover the din of the city. He could feel his heart beating, his blood pumping, and a strange elation taking over him.

“What got you, Red? You’re jumping around like a child who’s been promised a toy.”

Frank, of course, was less expressive than Matt. Yet Matt knew he enjoyed those nights. He could take out his cloak, and scare the soldiers by letting them see the white skull painted on it for a few seconds, enough for an eye to blink, enough to raise doubt, make a shiver run down their spines, make them swallow and tighten their grips on their weapons. The Punisher was well known in Hell's Kitchen, as was the Devil.

“Come on Frank, don’t you feel it?” Matt enquired playfully, still skittering around Frank.

“Feel what?”

“The freshness of the night. The power we have.”

Frank snorted instead of answered, readjusting his crossbow on his shoulder. A quiver was next to it, supported by his other shoulder, and he had several jet knives strapped all over his body, one shining at his hips.

“I say we patrol and we take down who we need to, Red. No need to be dramatical like that.”

Matt hardly sighed. Getting Frank to step out of his shell was a delicate task, but he was decided. He had grown fond of the man after their first fight, first against each other, then _with_ each other. He knew Frank liked him, under all his gruffness.

“Oh, Frank, could it be you didn’t sleep well? You need your night?”

But he couldn’t help being a tease. Seeing Frank glance at him, not knowing if Matt was serious or not, search for an answer that he hoped could end the conversation, that was a game he enjoyed.

“Shut up, Red, or you’ll have the floor and I’ll keep the bed.”

Matt could feel the smile stretching Frank’s lips, and he grinned.

~°~

Frank would never admit it out loud, but he was glad Red was next to him for the night. The redhead could be fucking annoying from time to time, but, ironically, he was the one who kept Frank’s demons at bay. And Frank never grew tired of mocking his ridiculous horns.

He looked around, doing his best to pierce through the mists. He wasn’t as comfortable as Red. He liked to be hidden — it made it easier for him to spot his targets and surprise them — but he saw too many things in the moving shapes of the mists, and he disliked the memories they brought back, every single time. He wanted to get the patrol over with as soon as possible and go back inside, polish his weapons, drowning out the voices speaking to him, screaming at him, through the rustle of the arrows he crafted, Red’s voice joking and teasing, and the heavy slumber that he called sleep.

“Care to know about your future, young men?”

The hoarse, frail voice echoed from nowhere, startling them both. Frank immediately armed his crossbow in a swift movement, the metal sliding with a soft murmur, and Red grabbed one of his sticks, ready to jump on what was covered by the veil.

The voice sounded again, and this time Red turned towards a certain direction, taking tentative steps, his whole body vibrating. The mists enveloped them and moved like waves, retreating at times to reveal a source of light nearby.

“Don’t be afraid, boys, I won’t hurt you.”

Frank followed the Devil close, doing his best to keep the memories away, feeling the rage surging again, boiling hot and high.

“It’s alright, Frank, it’s an old lady.”

Fucking Red and his acute senses. Always ahead of him.

“Well, I didn’t expect to encounter both the Devil and the Punisher on the same night! Evening, dears,” The voice breathed softly, its tone becoming warmer.

Frank walked closer, still holding his crossbow close. As much as he trusted Red, better safe than sorry. He lowered it as soon as the mists retreated enough to let him see the lady in question.

She was sitting cross-legged on a thin, rugged carpet that had lost almost all its colour to time. A lantern was hanging over her head, casting a fluttering halo. Cards were scattered in front of her, worn out as well, as much as the lady was. Wrinkled, she was, with white eyes, as white as the mists, as if she had spent too much of her life in them, and white hair, as white as the mists, as if they had drained its hue. But her hands weren’t trembling when she grabbed the cards, and even though she seemed to be blind, she still moved them around with the ease given by habit, making them dance around her head, tingle with her earrings.

“Care to know about your future, young men?”

“We don’t have anything to pay you, madam,” Red answered, always the polite one. His stick was already back in its holder, and he was crouching in front of the fortune teller with a smile.

She tilted her head back and made a barking sound, short and breathless. Frank understood it was a laugh when he saw her teeth shining with the light. When her hilarity seemed to have deserted her, she suddenly regained her composure and directed her white eyes to Frank, who hardly shivered.

“You do, you just don’t know it yet.”

Matt leant forward, curiosity painted all over his features. He couldn’t help himself, he was like that. He trusted easily, and Frank could tell he was already fond of the old lady.

“Now, come on young man, come closer,” she called, waving at Frank, bracelets tinkling at her wrists.

He reluctantly hung his crossbow over his shoulder again and walked closer, sitting down next to Red with a sigh.

“Are you ready to know more about your future, dears?” the lady asked with a grin matching Red’s, cards flying all around her, her hands blurry.

“I don’t believe in that kind of thing, you know,” Frank let out, a bit sharper than he had intended. “No offence, though,” he added after a pause. He didn’t want to upset the lady, who hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t her fault the mists were making him grumpy by forcing unwanted memories to surface. He felt like he was barely holding on in the light, with weights pulling him down, calling him to the darkness again.

“You don’t have to believe, young man, you only have to listen,” she replied without losing her smile.

Frank nodded, pleased by her honesty. “That I can do.”

He let Matt come close and rest against him, subtly covering him with his cloak, and sat back to appreciate the show. The lady started chanting, incoherent words and sounds that formed a pleasant melody, and the cards seemed to dance to the rhythm of her voice. Her hands were almost invisible, white bolts and tinkling noise, and she was rocking back and forth. Frank glanced around, still attentive to the rest of the world, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he witnessed the mists retreating away from the lady. Not far, only so much that they formed a larger circle around the three of them, then _pulsed_ with the same rhythm the cards followed.

The lady’s voice became louder, stronger, and the song was slowly reduced to a single high note, ringing crystal clear in their bubble of light. Red’s mouth was open, Frank noticed, and he was enthralled by what he perceived of the scene.

Silence dawned on them and every sound Frank’s body was making felt like thunder to him. It took a few seconds to understand the lady had stopped singing, and she was holding a single card in her right hand, her left back in her lap, cards scattered around as they had been when they arrived. With her eyelids closed, she put the card on the floor, face down.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice even hoarser than before, but holding a strange gentleness.

Frank wanted Red to answer, but the Devil stayed unusually silent, leaving Frank no choice.

“I guess we don’t have a choice, ma’am.”

She barked again, dry and humourless, and her earrings glinted with the lantern above them. Then she turned the card.

“What… What does it look like?” Red enquired, ever curious.

“It’s… It’s a man.”

“Care to be more precise, maybe?” Red scoffed, amused by Frank’s laconic answer, unaware of his inside turmoil.

“He’s standing in the middle of the card. He kinda looks like you, with red hair and red pants. One of his hands is in the air, holding a stick, the other one is down, holding a lantern. He wears a blindfold, there’s blood running down his eyes. There are… clouds, and mountains around him, and an almost pitch black sky behind. He’s the Hermit.”

Red stayed still, troubled as well. The similarities were almost upsetting, and it was with a trembling, soft voice that he dared to ask,

“What does it all mean?”

Another bark from the lady, before she answered.

“The stick is a symbol of patience, resilience. It means you’re still moving forward, you’ve been to Hell and back. You may need some support, yet you take another step, and another one. The lantern is to show you the way, like mine did. It called you closer, guided you to me safely through the mists.”

“But the man is blind,” Red cut in on her, and it wasn’t a question.

“You’re right. It’s because he’s the one that needs to be guided, and he must find a way for himself, in himself. He cannot see, everything is painted red to him, like pain and fire and passion. The lantern helps him think, gives him courage to pierce the darkness surrounding his mind, his heart. He must search in himself to find the way forward. That’s why he’s alone — he’s above the clouds, above the mists, lost in mountains where no man wanders.”

Her words echoed in Frank’s mind, cut deep into it, burning like embers. He didn’t believe in those things. Nobody could predict the future. You could guess your opponent’s next move, perhaps deduce where they would hide if you knew a bit about them, their habits, their fears. But a man’s path was solely his, even if it crossed other paths, and one could stray at any moment, unpredictably.

So he was deeply confused, and maybe a little upset, that the lady’s words felt so true to him.

“Thank you, madam.”

Red had taken the reins of the conversation, maybe sensing how confused and vulnerable Frank felt, and he got up on his feet in one swift move, helping Frank the next second.

“What do you want in exchange?” Frank growled, not forgetting his manners in spite of everything.

“Don’t worry dears, you’ll know soon enough,” the lady cackled, and Frank wanted to ask more, to make her talk, but Red pulled him back into the mists, and guided him through the streets and over the roofs to the safe place they shared. He helped Frank prepare his crossbow, then left him alone with his thoughts and perched on their roof to listen to the city, trying to determine if it needed their help tonight.

Frank knew the lady had been right, and he hated it. Yet that was something he needed to work on. He had to dwell on it, holding his lantern high and pushing the darkness away, before it could devour him. He had to let go of it, abandon it to the mists.

“It’s going to be okay, Frank.”

The Devil had sneaked up behind him, but Frank wasn’t surprised.

“Why, you’re suddenly an expert with my demons?” he snapped, his voice bitter, regretting the words as soon as they had left his lips.

Red didn’t seem to mind, and he sat down unceremoniously on what they used as their bed.

“A step forward is a step forward,” he stated, in that tone that never failed to annoy Frank.

“Got another one like that, Red?”

“You’re not alone, like this Hermit. I’m there to hold the lantern.”

That hit home, hit harder than Frank expected it, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t, anyway.

“You’re blind, stupid.”

He sat on the bed next to Red, his gear lying on the table, ready to be used next night.

“Hey, you’re the one that needs the light, not me,” Red joked, and he threw a pillow at Frank, who decided to keep it for himself instead of throwing it back. He was too tired for this shit anyway. And he had a lot to do, if he wanted to stay with Red without holding him back.

“That’s my pillow, Frank.”

“Not any more.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a moment and enjoyed your reading, let me know your thoughts in the comments! Thank you~
> 
> (And to my giftee, I hope you liked it. You motivated me to get back to drawing so thank you for that! And thank you for giving me amazing prompts as well ;))


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